


Tattoo

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [51]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Award Nominees, Awards, Awards Presentation, BRIT Awards, Dress Up, Dresses, F/M, Olivier awards, References to Shakespeare, Sensual Play, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a 100 drabble challenge on tumblr, based on a single word, TATTOO.</p><p>Tom returns home to London to attend the 2014 Olivier Awards as nominee for Best Actor with his girlfriend, Abigail. They have plans to enjoy the evening win or lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> **Tattoo**

“Babe? What time is the car coming?” I called from the hallway to the flat at large. I wasn’t sure where Tom had gotten off to as his jacket, bowtie and recently shined loafers were in the bedroom with me. I’d not managed my time in the morning very well and I was worried about being ready in time for the car’s arrival. My boyfriend was only home for a few days and we were savoring every minute before he returned back to Toronto to finish filming Crimson Peak.

“Half past,” he answered from his study.

Adjusting the straps of my A-line princess v-neck floor length chiffon half black, half champagne colored dress along my shoulders in the mirror, I hiked up the skirt to follow the sound of his voice. With my hip, I nudged the door open and found my love sitting in his computer chair pouring over something on the desk. The free flowing material of the dress swished around my ankles, making me feel pretty and lighter than air. “Babe, can you zip me up please?”

Tom swiveled in his chair and exhaled dramatically at the vision of me in my new purchase. “Baby, you look… exquisite!”

A luminescent smile brushed over my face, brightening the room. I twirled before him, with one hand over my heart holding the dress in place. “Thank you, my beautiful man.” I leaned into him and laid a chaste kiss on his lips, sharing my gratitude for his impeccable manners and polite nature.

Hands on my hips, Tom rotated me around, to fasten the back of the dress together for me. His lips ghosted over my spine along the bare skin on full display, up to the crisscross of black straps. “I’m a blessed man to have you on my arm tonight,” he complimented easily, pulling me down into his lap.

I circled his neck with my arms, allowing myself to be sidetracked for a few minutes despite having my makeup and hair still to do and less time to do it in. My fingers worked into his high fluffy curls on top of his head, fascinated with the volume and the texture. “Hiddleston, you are a charmer when you want to be. You’re not done dressing. What’re you doing?”

“Reminiscing,” he smiled sadly, indicating the program from Coriolanus that he kept in his desk. The pads of his fingers caressed along my spine, coaxing me to settle into his lap rather than worrying about the wrinkles I might create in his Alexander McQueen suit trousers. “I hated to end my run in that production. It sailed by in the blink of an eye.”

I pulled him to me to kiss the new scar on his forehead, a permanent reminder of his time in that play, a natural tattoo befitting the violence of the play itself. The text of the play called for twenty-seven wounds, and Tom got to keep one for his wounds as a memento of the show, a part of him. I adored his scars and he wore them so well, accentuating his beauty. “Can’t blame you… You’re nominated in a very prestigious category, babe. I’m so very proud of you.”

“I’m very proud of Coriolanus and all the work I put into it,” he said confidently.

Teasing him good-naturedly, I intoned softly, “You? Proud? Color me surprised, Hiddleston.”  I couldn’t resist taking the mickey out of him for his ego when the opportunity presented itself so easily. 

He dished the poking fun right back to me, “You pounced all over that one.”

Soothing the barely ruffled feathers of my man, I smiled warmly, “Tom, babe, I’m immensely proud of you. If either one of us is the lucky one, it’s me. You’re so very talented, my beautiful man, and you deserve that Olivier Award. I have to keep pinching myself that you’ve allowed me to love you, and share that experience with you.” I traced his jawline and defined cheekbones with my fingertips, hoping that he’d win the award he was nominated for.

I didn’t know enough about the other nominees, having missed all the other plays with my rehearsal and performance schedule. I knew they were all gifted performers, so I knew that Tom and I might be in for a disappointment. Tom’s sister, Emma was torn because her Emma World boyfriend, Jude Law was up against Tom. Emma and I were spending more time together while Tom was out of town swapping bets on who should win.

“Abby, my darling, you are sweet,” he murmured as he leaned in to taste the skin of my neck.

I moaned into his lips, as he nibbled along the slope of my neck. Tilting my head back and offering more of me for him, I tried to keep talking over the rush of heat spreading from his mouth through me. “A role… of a… lifetime… oh, Tom… Tom… you were… magnificent,” I breathed out through shudders at the responsibility of my lover.

“I can be magnificent again, for you, Abby,” my man suggestively intimated preceding a love bite.

I attempted a warning that we were falling into our raw desires, “Thomas… hair, makeup. 

“I was going to forego the eyeliner this evening actually.” I felt him grin lasciviously along my shoulder, in between flicks of his tongue.

“Arse, I meant me.”

He licked the shell of my ear and then bit down on the soft lobe underneath. “You cannot expect to have a serious conversation when you are wearing knickers that I have to talk you out of.” His hand caressed up my exposed back to my head to push me forward into a sensual kiss. Against my mouth, he then whispered, “Sunday is no knickers day, scandalous that you are wearing black lace.”

“Tom, an auditorium full of people…” I clutched his head to the nape of my neck as he breathed warm puffs along my flesh, kindling and igniting my nerve endings with lust. “Saturday knickers were essential this time.” 

His other hand searched through the delicate material of my dress, exploring for more skin that he could evoke to his will, his libido. “If I don’t win, I get to relieve you of them with my teeth.” He emphasized his point and the power of his teeth with another love bite at the v of my dress at the hollow between my breasts.

I gasped, thrusting my chest into the stimulation. “And if… oh, God…” his tongue laved along the valley of my cleavage. “Y-y-you do?”

Tom licked at the mark he made over and over again and I felt my skin flush a deeper pink in arousal. He chuckled arrogantly, “I’ll relieve you of them with my teeth.”

“Either way, we both win.”

“That’s my Abby!” he announced, his eyes trained hungrily at the cut of the dress and my inability of wearing a bra. “Do we have to go?”

“Yes. What if you win?” I landed butterfly kisses along his neck above the collar of his white buttoned up dress shirt. “To be fair, I will offer a reward for the nomination and/or win after we indulge in a few flutes of free champagne.” I could read in his eyes why he was reluctant to go, aside from the promise of physical satisfaction. This was the true closure of a favorite chapter in his professional career.

Underneath his tough exterior and arrogant shell, he was a well of sensitivity. About a year ago, in one of my days of hormones and PMS, I’d searched the drawer of his desk for his hidden stash of Quality Street chocolates. Instead of finding the treats, I discovered the program for the play that he and I originally starred in together, the one that brought us together as lovers, was hidden away for safe keeping. I never knew that he kept it until I found it that day.

Sensing his reticence, I poked him pleasantly in the ribs. “Let me show you off. It’s so rare that I get to show off my beautiful man as my own.” 

He sighed wistfully, “My Abby…  what would I do without you?”

“You don’t ever have to know,” I said with another kiss on his lips.


End file.
